


Like a Dandelion on a Sidewalk

by Amuly



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Cunnilingus, Episode: s0401 Thirty Days Without an Accident, Extended Scene, F/M, Hand Jobs, Missing Scene, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 4 premier reaction-fic. Daryl and Carol share a moment first as the bad-ass papa and mama bears to the children during "story time", then share a more private moment that night in Carol's cell.</p><p>Warning: MAJOR SPOILERS for Season 4 premier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Dandelion on a Sidewalk

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [@N_erdman](https://twitter.com/N_erdman) on twitter for the idea for the first scene!

 

“Daryl?” Carol called. Her head was raised, eyes looking right at him through the gloom. She always could see him, pinpoint just where he was. It was uncanny, was what it was.

Slinking his way out of the shadows, Daryl made his grand entrance to the “reading” circle. The kids were looking up at him all hero-worshipful like. Daryl sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “So. You guys need to learn some distance weapons, today?”

The kids were beaming up at him, necks bouncing their heads nearly clean off, they were nodding so hard. Even the girls, which was a good sight to see. Didn't need them growing up to be no simpering damsels. Not in these days.

Something like a smile crossed Daryl's face as he squatted down to eye-level with the kids.

“Okay. But before we go over how to shoot something, guess what we gotta do first?”

“Safety!” one of the girls, a blonde, pipped up right quick.

Daryl smiled and nodded at her. “Right. Safety. Safety first. Okay, so this ends of the arrows? These are the sharp ends, yeah? Here, I'll pass it around so you can touch, but be careful, alright?”

Daryl drew an arrow from his quiver and passed it to the first kid in front of him. As he leaned back to his previous squatting position, a hand came to rest between his shoulder blades. Daryl didn't look back at Carol, who the hand belonged to. He just shook his head a little bit, to clear it, and kept going.

“So, who knows the rules about guns?”

“Never point it at a living folk.” A little boy, this time.

Daryl nodded. “Good. Same rules for the crossbow, okay?”

Carol's hand stayed warm and steadying on Daryl's back as he gave his lesson to the kids.

After “story time” was over and the kids had filed out, Daryl stayed behind to help Carol pack up what little there was to pack.

As she was tucking the book away, to be continued tomorrow at the next “story time,” Carol observed: “You're really good with them.”

Daryl shrugged, looked away. “Don't mind the kids.”

Carol just hummed and smiled. It was that little knowing smile, like she knew what he was really thinking, even if he didn't know it himself. It made the skin between his shoulder blades itch. She got that look more and more often these days, it seemed. Daryl ducked his head and glanced at Carol from under his eyebrows. It wasn't a _bad_ itch.

“Come on.” Carol patted at Daryl's thigh, causing a shot of feeling to go through him. Daryl re-busied himself with packing up his crossbow and arrows, nice and neat. “Let's get some grub.”

Daryl nodded and did his best to avoid eye contact with Carol, only looking up when he was sure she wasn't looking.

* * *

The halls were pretty quiet as Daryl slunk away from Beth's cell, bypassing his own as casually as he could. The noises were just the shifting of people moving around, settling in for bed. Coughing, snoring, sheets rustling. Glenn and Maggie were going at it, though pretty quiet considering all they had was a sheet to cover their cell bars. Daryl wondered if he was loud like that, at night. Probably. Probably wasn't fooling anyone, at this point. But they pretended like they were.

Daryl stopped outside of the cell, before he reached the bars. Respectfully he knocked on the outermost bar, keeping his eyes fixed down and away. They had little enough privacy as it was, these days. No use him making it worse, if he could help it.

But immediately, practically before he knocked it seemed, Carol's voice called out softly from inside her cell. “Come in.”

Glancing around one last time (which he shouldn't do, if he didn't want to seem suspicious. But he never really got the knack of that, as a kid and dumb teenager. Wasn't about to get the hang of it now), Daryl slunk into Carol's cell and ducked onto her bed, against the wall. He did his best to make himself as unseen from the outside as possible.

“Hey,” he whispered. Then he dropped his head and frowned. “Hey”. Real eloquent-like, there.

But Carol was busying herself with setting up her own privacy curtain, before joining him on her bed with a smile. She didn't seem put off by his lack of airs. Her hands came out and rubbed at his knees comfortingly.

“'Hey' yourself,” she said back. “How'd the run go?”

Daryl glanced away, shook his head minutely. Carol's hands tightened on his knees.

“Who?”

“Zach,” he mumbled. He hated having to say the names. Hated having to talk about any of this, having to acknowledge it happening.

Hate fucking losing people. Every damn day, it seemed, someone else was lost. Every day, he fucked-up protecting someone.

Carol's sharp intake of breath dragged Daryl out of his self-loathing stupor. A hand came up to her mouth, face pinched tight with concern. “Oh. Does... Does Beth...?”

“'told her.”

Carol waited a beat, not saying anything. Her hands had come back down to rub at his knees some more. Daryl found himself focusing on that point of contact as his thoughts bubbled over in his head.

“She didn't cry,” he blurted out. He wasn't sure why he said that. Wasn't... didn't matter. It was good of Beth. Smart girl. She liked him, that Zach kid, but she knew everybody had a great big target on their back. She was strong. Living right.

“Everyone deals with grief differently,” Carol said.

Slowly, kinda still all nervous, like... like they hadn't been doing this damn near every night, like he hadn't come to expect Carol waiting for him in her cell... Daryl leaned forward on the bed, leaning into Carol's chest. Carol's hands came up for him, wrapping around his shoulders and back, rubbing soothing lines down it. Daryl pressed his face to Carol's chest and breathed, settling his pulse, trying to calm down his damn fool head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her breasts.

Carol's chin was resting lightly on his head. Her lips came down to press a kiss to his hair when he said that. She shushed him.

Daryl's chest _hurt_. Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around her waist—too thin, too bony, he needed to get more game to fatten her up, make her feel healthy and strong and not half-starved in his arms—and held on tight.

Zach never knew what Daryl had done for a living before. Daryl kinda hoped he didn't know, if there was a heaven somewhere he was up in. Undercover cop was a better notion than any stupid job he had ever managed to hold down for a couple months, before the world had gone to hell.

“It wasn't his fault,” Daryl said. That was the worst thing. It wasn't the kid's stupid fucking _fault_. The fucking _ceiling_ had caved in, they had be overrun in a minute, in thirty seconds. The kid had done everything right.

“It wasn't your fault, either.”

Daryl went still, like a jackrabbit in the second it laid eyes on you, trying to figure out if it's spotted and where to run. Then he pulled back, just enough to look up at Carol. She was all placid against him, looking at him. Like a lake first thing at dawn during the summertime. All calm and nice, waiting just for you, to stick your toes in her.

Carol leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, first. She always went first, when they were together. Daryl just wasn't... wasn't too sure, about anything. Especially when it came to Carol. He wasn't that asshole dead husband of hers: he wouldn't do anything like that to Carol, ever. Only, sometimes it seemed like Daryl always hurt those close to him. He didn't want anything to happen like that to Carol. Not ever. He couldn't be like Beth, all strong and appreciation the time with a person, instead of the time lost—not when it came to Carol. Not when it came to anyone in their original little group, but especially when it came to Carol.

Daryl leaned up into the kiss, tilting his head up to Carol. She leaned further down, face tilting to his, as he echoed the change, drifting towards her like a sunflower in the summer sun. Her lips pressed against his, wet and sweet. Daryl opened up to her, letting her set the pace. He always let her set the pace, just... 'cause. 'cause it was common courtesy, 'cause he didn't want to be anything like that jackass she had been married to ('cause he wasn't sure how to do this, 'cause he wasn't sure how to be with someone he had these sorts of feelings for).

Four, five, six kisses. Just as things were really starting to heat up, Daryl pulled back, moving away from Carol's lips. He traveled down her body, tugging at her shirt first, pressing a few sweet kisses and licks along her breasts before moving further down. Her body arched beneath him, opening up to him. The noises she made were all breathy and happy. Content with the state of affairs, or more so. Daryl thought more so, most nights. He hadn't exactly had the most experience: not like this, in a bed and taking your time and actually trying to make sure the other person was enjoying themselves as much as you were.

Daryl tugged at Carol's pants, pulling them down and away. Carol kicked them off the rest of the way, once he got them under her knees, while Daryl turned his attention to more important areas. Carol arched beneath him, one hand drifting down to settle in his shaggy hair, the other sliding off her hips and to the mattress. Daryl reached up and grabbed at the loose hand, holding it tight as he licked inside her.

It wasn't bad, doing this. Gave him a hard-on like he couldn't believe, without any sort of handy or anything. And nothing about it smelled bad or anything: actually, it was pretty good. His brother, he used to joke about how bad it was. Maybe Daryl was messed-up or something, or maybe Merle was, but Daryl sure didn't mind it. Took to it like a duck to water, really.

Carol moaned low and quiet above him, hips arching off the bed in little tiny movements, not quite all-the-way happy, like Daryl knew he could get her. He pulled away for a moment, just enough to suck on his fingers of his free hand, the one that had been holding her thighs apart before. Returning his mouth back to her wetness, Daryl slid two fingers inside her, rubbing gently at her hot walls inside. Carol groaned lowly, stomach rolling, hips moving up. Daryl listened for it, eyes unfocused as he felt inside her, feeling the contractions of her heat around him, waiting for it, waiting for it...

There she went, all happy and mewling, laughter bubbling up from deep in her belly as her orgasm crested and washed away. Daryl lifted his head and removed his fingers, climbing carefully up her, eyes trained on her face. She was all happy and loose, eyes sliding from the ceiling down to him in an easy motion, relaxed and limp. Daryl ducked his head, kinda just waiting around. He was hard as hell, but if Carol was done, then. Well.

But Carol was tugging at him, bringing him up to kiss at his lips and reach a hand down between them. Daryl made a sorta soft, sorta needy noise into her mouth, though he'd never admit it afterwards. It was just how he was with Carol, was all. Everyone was allowed to make an ass of themselves, when it came to what they did between the sheets. They let Maggie and Glenn get away with all sorts of foolishness, after all.

Carol's hand was firm and quick over his hard-on, rubbing and tugging at it all right. Daryl held himself up over Carol, careful to keep his weight off her, not to crush her or pin her in or anything. She didn't like it, when he got too cagey with her, when he trapped her in place. Daryl didn't like to think about why: he just kept off her as best he could, and gave her the best damn ride he could, every time.

He grunted when he blew his load all over her hand. Some of it dribbled down onto her stomach, escaping between her fingers. She wiped it up with her hand and smeared it on her sheets. They washed them regular, now: once every two months, at least. It was a pretty good deal.

Daryl moved off her as he came down, head still fuzzy with blowing like that, vision all sparkles and sunshine. He slid to the side, curled up against her stomach like a pup in the wintertime. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, head pillowed against her breasts, chest rising and falling steady beneath him. He could hear her heartbeat, still quick from before. His fingers itched, mouth watered at the thought of maybe getting her off again, at not letting that heartbeat settle too long. He knew he could: get her off again, that was. He'd done that, and more, before.

But right that moment he was tired, last bits of adrenaline from the day leeched out of him by Carol's smart hands. Daryl snuffled his face against Carol's breasts and breathed out, slow and long. Her hand stroked at the back of his head. It was... It was fucking _nice_ , was what it was. Plain and simple: _nice_. Daryl was _happy_ when he was with Carol. Even after days like today. Maybe especially after days like today.

And okay, maybe he wasn't too tired, just yet. Daryl's right hand drifted down Carol's stomach, fingers tangling gently in her pubic hairs. She trimmed them—he didn't know why she bothered, but hey, if she wanted to look all tidy down there, it wasn't up to him to comment—but there was still plenty to grab onto, to rub his still-slick fingers through. Carol's body was already responding to him, hips lifting gently, like she was inviting him in. Carol's head ducked down against his, lips trailing along his ear.

“Feeling like a regular _Don Juan_ tonight, are we?” she teased.

Daryl slipped his thumb over her swollen clit, pressing down nice and firm, but real casual-like. Her breath hitched in her chest: he could hear it clear where he was, with his ear still pressed against her breasts. “Sure,” he agreed, though maybe he didn't get the reference.

Just as Carol was humming low in her throat and Daryl was slipping his fingers back inside her, there was a noise. In an instant Daryl pulled back, all senses on alert and focused beyond the curtain Carol had pulled in front of her cell.

Carol—amazing, fucking genius, awesome Carol—went real still next to him. She leaned forward slow, lips pressed against his ear before she whispered, nearly inaudible: “ _What is it_?”

Daryl shook his head. He couldn't hear anything now, strain as he did, adrenaline flashing through his veins for the second, third, fiftieth time that day. There had been something. _Something_.

Something was inside the prison.

 


End file.
